


Harry Potter: A Modern Day Therapist

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Broken Bucky Barnes, Bucky Does Not, Bucky Likes It, Fluff and Angst, Gen, It's Not Stealing if you Give It Back Steve, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sam and Clint Conspire Against Steve, Steve Doesn't Care for the Series, Steve Supports Harry X Ginny, Steve and Bucky Read Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry Potter showed up twice in his little notebook (neither time in his handwriting), and the books seemed to ‘magically’ appear on his coffee table, Steve figured someone wanted him to read the damn series.</p><p>(Or Steve humors Clint and Sam and reads Harry Potter, not knowing he and Bucky would bond over the series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Potter: A Modern Day Therapist

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcanon that Steve has tried reading Harry Potter, but doesn't particularly like it, and Bucky seems to love the series. This wasn't what I wanted to write, I had several different ideas in mind, but this is what came out on paper (or computer)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading :)
> 
> Bye...
> 
> P.S. Sorry for the cheesy lines at the end... I just really like cheesy lines.

**One**

When Harry Potter showed up twice in his little notebook (neither time in his handwriting), and the books seemed to ‘magically’ appear on his coffee table, Steve figured someone wanted him to read the damn series. It took him a couple of months, missions and his constant search for Bucky getting in the way, but he finally managed to finish them.

“So?” Barton prompted, perched on the back of Steve’s couch, watching as the blond closed the last book, looking nonchalant but with a hint of expectation in his eyes.

“They were alright,” Steve answered with a shrug, tossing the book on his coffee table.

“Alright?” Sam asked carefully, from Steve’s recliner, sharing a quick look with Clint. “Alright? You’ve just finished an entire series that defined a generation and they were alright?”

“They were alright,” Steve repeated with a deadpan stare. “Look, they aren’t my type of books. They were okay, but I don’t see myself reading them again.” He stood up, heading towards his front door, opening it. He nodded his head outside and said, “Now, I haven’t had much sleep over the past few days. So, get the hell out.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam conceded as he and Clint stood, both moving towards the door. As they crossed the threshold, Clint muttered, “I never knew Captain America was so bitchy.” Sam snorted, shaking his head.

“Good night, Barton, Wilson,” Steve said closing the door harder than necessary. He leaned against the door, wondering if his super healing could do anything for his back if he passed out right there, but figured it just wasn’t worth it.

He pushed away from the door, locking it, and turned, a look of surprise crossing his face; Bucky stood in the middle of Steve’s living room, hands behind his back, an unreadable expression on his face. For thirty seconds they shared a look before Bucky sniffed and turned, rushing out the open window.

“Buck, wait!” Steve called chasing his friend, but he had already disappeared. Steve sighed, but kept his window open as he went to bed.

* * *

**Two**

Steve didn’t see Bucky again until a week later nor did he tell anyone he had, in fact, saw him the first time (a decision he didn’t quite understand himself). He had returned from his run with Sam and Clint (Barton having joined them the last four times), intending to take a shower and maybe call Natasha to see if she wanted to get lunch. He dropped his keys into the little, porcelain bowl by his door, kicked his shows off, and shrugged out of his hoodie.

He almost tossed it on his recliner, but stopped himself when he found Bucky sitting in it, his head down, eyes scanning a book.

“You know, that little Malfoy shit reminds me of Nick Mendez from down the hall. Remember him?” Bucky asked without looking up from his book, sounding more like himself than the last time Steve saw him (granted, the last time Steve saw Bucky, it had been several seconds before he plummeted into the Potomac) and it took Rogers a couple of blinks to clear his vision. “I always wanted to pop him in the face.”

“Wasn’t he ten?” Steve asked breathlessly, still watching Bucky in awe.

“I said I wanted to, not that I did,” Bucky retorted giving Steve a conspiratorial smile before returning his gaze to the book. “These books have a lot of funny words in ‘em, but they aren’t half bad. At least, the first one wasn’t.”

“They were alright,” Steve replied softly, finally moving away from the door. “Did you seriously break in here to steal my Harry Potter books?”

Bucky snorted, closing his book and getting to his feet. He met Steve’s eyes and said, “It’s not stealing if I return it, Steve.” He then winked and disappeared out of the open window again.

* * *

**Three**

“I like Lupin,” Bucky said the moment Steve walked into his apartment. The brunet commandeered Steve’s recliner again, his eyes on (what Steve figured) must be the third book. “He was forced to become a werewolf, can barely control himself without his Wolfsbane potion, but he makes the best of it. He sort of reminds me of that soft spoken guy you had lunch with last week.”

“Bruce,” Steve supplied not even bothering to question how exactly Bucky knew about he and Bruce having lunch, closing the door behind him. He dropped his keys in the bowl by the door, heading into the kitchen. Opening his fridge, he called, “You want something to drink?”

“No thanks,” Bucky called back turning another page in his book.

“You know, Sirius Black reminds me of you,” Steve commented returning to the living room, taking a seat on his couch and popping the cap off his soda.

“Trapped for something he couldn’t control? Labeled a pariah by people who once deemed him a handsome, harmless troublemaker? Yeah, I can see that.” Bucky sounded bitter, his eyes frozen on the page, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I meant that he was a great best friend to James…” Steve’s words died on his lips when Bucky jumped to his feet and disappeared out the window. Setting his soda onto his coffee table, Steve leaned back into his couch, hands buried in his hair.

 _That went great,_ he thought with a quiet sigh.

* * *

**Four**

Steve figured he screwed up, certain he wouldn’t see Bucky again, but the brunet showed up at Steve’s apartment two weeks later, sitting out on the fire escape, an orange book propped up against his drawn legs. Steve, who had been making soup when Bucky appeared, sat against the wall, soup balanced on his knee, and said, “You sure you don’t want any?”

“Nah.” Bucky shook his head, chewing on his thumbnail, reading the book. “I wouldn’t have willingly abandoned you like Ron.”

“What?” Steve put his soup to the side, pushing himself up on his knees so he could see Bucky. “Who said anything about…?”

“I mean, it’s clear that Harry didn’t put his name in the Goblet. The kid hasn’t been a wizard long enough to figure out how to do it on his own, and he clearly isn’t stupid enough to ask an older student to do it for him. I mean, what kind of best friend doesn’t believe it when their own brother (I mean, let’s face it, Ron and Harry are brothers at this point) tells them they had nothing to do with it. Abandoning Harry was a shitty move on Ron’s part.”

“You’ve got to see it from his point of view, Buck,” Steve started slowly, lowering himself back onto the floor, retrieving his soup. “Ron’s jealous. He’s had to grow up with five brothers, who have always seemed a bit better than him, and now he’s got this friend, new brother, who is the chosen one. Who has money and fame and popularity. Because, let’s face it, even when no one was talking to Harry Potter, they were all talking _about_ Harry Potter. Ron’s never had any of this, and now he just sees that Harry has gotten more glory, and Ron just feels left out.” Steve stabbed at his soup, muttering, “I know how he feels.”

“Steve, you’ve never been Ron Weasley,” Bucky said softly, surprising Steve. “You’ve always been the hero, been Harry, even before the serum. If anyone was jealous, it was me, but that still doesn’t change anything. I would have never willingly abandoned you.” Steve opened his mouth, not sure what he wanted to say, but Bucky had already disappeared.

* * *

**Five**

Steve opened his door, only to duck as a blue book came flying at him. It hit his neighbor’s door with a loud _bang_ , and Steve heard a shout from inside the apartment. Quickly, he picked up the fallen book and hurried into his apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Buck!” he called softly, laying the book on the table by the door. “Bucky, are you okay?”

He found Bucky sitting hunched over in the chair, his fisted hands resting on his legs, glaring at the floor. Before Steve could ask what’s wrong, Bucky bitterly said, “Falling through a veil must have been a lot more peaceful than off a train.”

Steve felt his stomach clench and he slowly sat down, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. He watched Bucky for a long moment, but finally he said, “It’s just a book.”

Bucky ran a hand through his shaggy hair, looking up, and softly asked, “Do you know why I keep reading these books?” When Steve shook his head, Bucky continued, “Because I need some sort of an escape. I keep,” he pointed at his head with his metal hand, “keep getting these flashes, memories coming back all scrambled, and I needed one thing, one simple, stupid thing, to keep my mind focused; to keep me from completely losing it.”

“You don’t have to read these books,” Steve stated kindly, his voice soft. “I’ve got plenty you can read. There’s this series Stark has been trying to get me to read, about the 50 shades of gray or something, but I haven’t gotten around to it. You can read those…”

“No, Steve, I started Harry Potter. I’m going to damn well finish the series.” Bucky stood up, crossing the room to retrieve the book. He clutched the book in his hands, studying the cover. “I just really needed Harry to have someone in his life, someone who isn’t manipulating him like Dumbledore or abusing him (god those relatives of his should have been locked up a long time ago) like his aunt and uncle.” Bucky gave Steve a brittle smile, already heading towards the window. “At least he has Lupin.”

Steve managed a forced smile, muttering, “Yeah,” before he realized he was talking to an empty room. Maybe letting Bucky, who’s not exactly the most stable right now, read Harry Potter wasn’t such a good idea.

* * *

**Six**

“You know who Voldemort reminds me of,” Bucky started from his lounged position on Steve’s couch, a purple and black book resting on his stomach.

“Hitler,” Steve replied groggily, stumbling to his coffee maker, smirking slightly when he found a half pot of coffee waiting for him.

“Exactly,” Bucky responded quietly, turning another page in his book. “A half-blood advocating against his own kind and non magical people, giving his followers a goddamn ‘pet name,’ and otherwise proving what a power hungry, sack of shit he is. Harry and the Order are pretty much the Allied forces battling the Axis. And their guns are just thin sticks that happened to shoot magic out of them.”

“I think that’s what the author had been trying to depict,” Steve stated pouring himself a cup of coffee. He carried his cup into the living room, taking a seat in his recliner. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple hours,” Bucky answered absentmindedly, turning another page. “Also I don’t like Harry and Ginny being a thing. To me, it sort of came out of nowhere.”

“I thought they were cute,” Steve commented with a shrug, sipping his coffee. “I mean, obviously Hermione and Ron are heading towards something, and Harry and Cho weren’t going to last…”

“Yeah, but he has had more intimate interactions with Moaning Myrtle than he has with Ginny,” Bucky argued sparing Steve a single glance before returning to his book. “He hasn’t even given Ginny a second glance since he met her, and to me it just seemed rushed. I would have believed Ron and Harry before I believed Harry and Ginny.”

Steve finished his coffee, getting to his feet to pour himself another cup. He leaned against the counter, slowly savoring his second cup, when he heard Bucky mutter, “I saw that coming.”

“Dumbledore die?” Steve called curiously.

“Yup,” Bucky called back. “Obviously he asked Snape to kill him.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Dumbledore didn’t seem surprised when Snape pulled his wand on him,” Bucky answered appearing in the kitchen entryway. “In fact, it sounded like he was begging him to do it. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“No spoilers, Buck,” Steve retorted walking past his friend, risking a quick chest pat. Bucky didn’t say anything, but he did follow the blond back into the living room, sprawling out on the couch again.

Steve put his coffee down on the coffee table, picking up his sketchbook, the two falling into a comfortable silence. It almost seemed like old times, and, for the first time, Bucky didn’t rush out of Steve’s apartment.

To Rogers, it felt like a win.

* * *

**Seven**

Steve doesn’t see Bucky for a few days afterward, too busy dealing with a deadly fleet of robo-aliens (Tony’s word not his) to actually sit down, much less spend any time at his apartment. Once the robo-aliens had been dealt with, and the cleanup was well underway, Steve returned home.

He dropped his duffle bag by the door, putting his keys in his key bowl. He shut the door, kicking his sneakers off, wanting nothing more than to pass out in his bed, but he didn't make it too far before Bucky ducked into his apartment.

“Hey,” Steve greeted with a tired wave.

“Hey,” Bucky repeated clutching a yellow and green book to his chest.

“Are you almost done with that book?” Steve commented moving towards his couch, sinking into the cushions.

“Yeah, Dobby and Fred died,” Bucky said softly, “along with Lupin and Tonks.” He scratched at his nose with his left hand, glancing down at the book. “I had to tape two of the pages back into the book.”

Steve half-shrugged, his eyes already slipping closed, and he softly asked, “Do you want to read the rest to me?”

“I only have the epilogue left,” Bucky answered but still sat down next to Steve. “And you’ve already read the series.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve murmured tiredly, tilting his head Bucky’s way. “By the way, you were right about Snape.”

“Yeah, I was,” Bucky said softly and Steve felt hesitant fingers brush hair out of his face. “I also realized you aren’t Harry…”

“Oh really?”

“No, you’re more like Neville. Rising above anyone who has ever doubted you, proving to those bastards that you were never weak, always a hero.” Bucky’s quiet for a long moment, but he finally commented, “This may sound cheesy, but you’ve always been my hero, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, thinking over what Bucky had said, knowing somewhere, deep down, he knew the brunet wasn’t lying, but finally he grumbled, “Just read the damn book, Barnes.”

“Barton is right, you are bitchy,” Bucky half-joked but he still opened the book, clearing his throat, and began to read: “ _‘Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp and golden as an apple…’”_

As Steve let Bucky’s voice lull him to sleep, he muttered, “You’re my hero, too, Buck.”


End file.
